


Opie the Muse

by Winged_Monkey28



Series: Close Encounters of the Celebrity Kind [2]
Category: I Saw the Light (2015) RPF
Genre: F/M, Tom as Hank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 09:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11228562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winged_Monkey28/pseuds/Winged_Monkey28
Summary: A little one shot."Chasing That Neon Rainbow" and "Midnight In Montgomery" belong to Alan Jackson."I'm So Lonesome I could Die" belongs to Hank Williams.





	Opie the Muse

Daddy won a radio

He tuned it to a country show

I was rocking in the cradle to the crying of a steel guitar

Mama used to sing to me

She taught me that sweet harmony

Now she worries cause she never thought

I’d really ever take it this far

Singing in the bars

 

He looked around the crowded bar, pulling on the brim of his Stetson. Rodney had told him he was almost ready.

“You just need to get out and strut around in his boots. The music will be the easy part after that,” Rodney had reassured him.

He made it through the crowd to the bar as his fellow patrons erupted into whistles, clapping and a few shouts of “Yee haw!” He looked over at the small stage. He had only half listened as he entered.

A woman stood at the microphone center stage. Her eyes were shielded by the brim of her hat, but her smile was crooked with plump lips. Dark hair hung in soft curls past her shoulders.

“Thank y’all! One more song, then the boys and I will take a short break,” she started to strum on the guitar in her hands. The band joined in as she began to sway back and forth.

He tensed as he recognized the opening cords of the song. Then she began to sing.

 

Hear that lonesome whippoorwill

He sounds too blue to fly

The midnight train is whining low

I’m so lonesome I could cry

 

He swallowed hard and spun back to the bar behind him.

“Whiskey and a beer, please,” he carefully asked in a slow drawl. The bartender nodded and set out a shot and a long-neck brown bottle. He drank the shot in one gulp. The warmth of the liquor slid down his throat.

“Opie really does Hank justice,” an older man next to him remarked.

“Opie?” he asked, making sure his twang didn’t slip.

The man nodded to the stage. The woman was just finishing the song. She curtsied slightly before setting down her guitar and leaving the stage. She stopped here and there to speak with someone, but kept to her path. Straight to him.

He took a long pull of his beer as she came closer. He could see her eyes now. They were a chocolate brown and the corners crinkled as she turned on a megawatt smile.

“Uncle Allan, I didn’t know you were in town,” she exclaimed, hugging the older man next to him.

“I had some meetings with the studio and couldn’t miss a chance to hear my little Opie sing,” he responded, squeezing her before releasing her. “I was just telling my new friend here that you do hank proud.”

“Really?” she smiled, looking over at him. “What’s your new friend’s name?” The corner of her mouth lifted in a sly smile. She accepted a beer from her uncle.

“Uh, Hank, ma’am.” He lifted his hat slightly in greeting. He took another swig of beer as she cocked an eyebrow.

“Well ain’t that a coincidence! I’d almost think you were pulling my leg, Hank,” she said with a wink. He only smiled in response.

A song began to play on the jute box. Opie raised her eyebrows in question.

“Do you dance Hank?” she asked, setting her beer on the bar next to her uncle.

“Well I have been known to cut a rug or two,” he replied with a smile. He set down his bottle  and held out his arm to lead her to the floor. This wasn’t going to be the random flailing he was used to, but Rodney had filled plenty of his days with dance lessons among everything else.

They fell into an easy rhythm as the song played.

“What brings you to Nashville, Hank?” she asked as they made circles around the floor.

“Why do I feel like you keep makin’ fun of my name?” he countered with a laugh.

“Me, make fun of you?” she laughed. “You’re not the one called Opie!”

“How is that, by the way?”

“My mother named me Calliope,” she said, ducking her head.

“The muse of epic poetry, at least she didn’t name you Erato,” his twang slipped at the name of the other muse.

“So Hank, where are you from? I don’t quite recognize that accent.” Her eyebrow rose skeptically.

“A-a-alabama,” he stuttered out, swallowing hard. She didn’t respond, only looked up at him. Her gaze searched his face. He felt his cheeks heat under her scrutiny.

The song ended and they returned to the bar. Allan saluted them with his beer as they approached. Calliope slipped from his grasp.

“It’s time I get back to stage. Thank you for the dance Hank.” She began to walk backwards.

He nodded, reaching out to grab her hand. Her eyes widened as he brought it to his lips for a kiss. He smiled mischievously as he released it.

“The pleasure was all mine, Calliope,” he said.

“All right! Are you ready for some more great music?” Calliope asked into the microphone as she adjusted her guitar in her grasp. “This next song goes out to my new friend, Hank, from Alabama.”

She strummed on the guitar before being joined by the steel guitar.

 

Midnight in Montgomery, silver eagle, lonely road

I was on my way to Moblie, for a big New Year’s Eve show

I stopped for just a minute, to see a friend outside of town

Put my collar up, I found his name, and felt the wind die down

 

And a drunk man in a cowboy hat took me by surprise

Wearing shinny boots, a Nudi suit, and haunting haunted eyes

He said friend it’s good to see you, it’s nice to know you care

Then the wind picked up and he was gone, was he ever really there

 

‘Cause it’s midnight in Montgomery, just hear that whippoorwill

See the stars light up the purple sky, feel the lonesome shill

‘Cause when the wind is right, you’ll hear his songs, smell whiskey in the air

Midnight in Montgomery, he’s always singing there


End file.
